


Citrus

by honeybun



Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: Chapter 234, Emotional Constipation, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:29:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28616619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybun/pseuds/honeybun
Summary: Mo Guan Shan can admit when he’s wrong.If he has to do that while being carried off the school grounds by He Tian, then he guesses that’s just his lot in life.
Relationships: He Tian & Mo Guanshan (19 Days), He Tian/Mo Guanshan (19 Days)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 190





	Citrus

Staring at the picture in his hand makes him a little nauseous, but at the same time he’s worried over getting his fingers on the print should the oil in his hands leave smudges.

He’d left his friends in a hurry, those he’d known for years, their bond borne from blood and purple bruising when he was younger. Recently there’d only been space in his head, space in his life, for He Tian. 

He’d gone to check at his desk, hating how he felt _crestfallen_ at his absence. Hating that it had come to this, sneaking up on him, how he was torturously aware of the picture in his pocket, burning a thin line against his thigh. 

Everyday felt like he was being pulled under waves. Just as he rights his footing and starts swimming to shore, pulling himself away from the influence of He Tian, the overwhelming feelings that crash over him - he’s pulled back again. Through leaving early he’d intended to avoid He Tian’s eyes as he woke up, avoid thinking too much about how he looked while he was sleeping. Done so then he didn’t have to eat breakfast quietly with him and contemplate this new softness between them. And then he’d arrived at school, to the note, to the guitar in his locker. To this picture.

Now he feels like he’s further out than he has been ever before, he can barely see the beach any longer, almost at home in the depths of the waves. But he can’t let himself be.

_Do the things you like to do, I’ll support you._

He read those words over and over again, bit his lip until it chapped at the corner. He could feel himself fighting a losing battle with less and less strength, pushing back with weakening force, not _wanting_ to anymore.

‘You don’t understand,’ Mo says to no one in particular, to the floor. Maybe meant for Tian originally but the words stick uncomfortably to his tongue, his throat catches, knowing perhaps, the falsity that lies there.

There are footsteps that he shouldn’t recognise - that his ears shouldn’t listen out for so keenly, but they do - that he’s known maybe only for a few weeks. Then Mo feels the air around him grow colder as he sits in He Tian’s shadow.

He Tian is a force of nature, a hurricane and Mo Guan Shan will be his shipwreck. Words that make Mo’s ears ring, things that pierce his heart with their truth. When did he become like this? Mo doesn’t seem to remember this from whenever he’d glanced at He Tian at school, eyebrow raised at his groupies surrounding him. He’d always seemed polite, genial. Never this. Never forceful in his belief that Mo Guan Shan should _fight_ , should have _courage_ \- courage in himself, courage to _believe_.

Mo Guan Shan wants to tell him that it’s dangerous for people like him to believe in something - in _someone_ he would mean - but he knows that if he says that, what he’s really thinking, that He Tian’s eyes with grow dark, that his grip will tighten. As if he’s saying, can’t you see me? I’m here, aren’t I? Words replaying in his head, promises that he knows Tian will keep, knows him better than he knows himself. Some universal joke of the world - or a _gift_ , another voice tells him. 

He Tian bends down and Mo Guan Shan doesn’t know if the bastard got stronger or whether he just fits more comfortably in his grasp now - and what a _treacherous_ thought that is - but it’s so easy to let himself be picked up and carried. To feel the warmth radiating off Tian in warm rolling waves. To feel, once again, like he hasn’t for years - maybe since his father went to prison, since that day - like something taken care of, cared for. 

He thinks perhaps this isn’t drowning, maybe that’s what it was before. Maybe he’s been sitting on that beach, safe, but running out of water, all alone and waiting for someone to pick him up but no one did. Not until He Tian.

There are threats, of course, because who would he be to not give He Tian shit?

He Tian smiles as he walks, Mo propped up on his waist, Mo Guan Shan’s fingers knit through the silky strands of He Tian’s hair. _Dangerous_. Indulgent, even.

‘In the future we’ll understand each other deeply,’ He Tian tells him, nothing but quiet confidence in his voice, a confidence Mo wants to cling to and keep in his heart, the only sure thing in this ramshackle life he’s made for himself, foundations quaking and in need of repair. The thought of knowing He Tian, the thought that He Tian will make sure that there’s- that there _is_ a future, suddenly settles a fear deep in Mo Guan Shan’s bones.

He’s covering his face, but not struggling. He brings his hand up to pull his jacket over his head. Partly in embarrassment, partly because in that moment, that moment where everything feels safe for once, a _given_ , he feels like to lean forward, into He Tian’s arms, might not be such a terrible thing.

Under him he can feel He Tian’s careful steps, hear the sounds of fellow students, insects and birds. He closes his eyes and everything is dark. His fingers are still tangled in He Tian’s hair, he can feel his own tickling his knuckles as he dips his head down lower.

Mo Guan Shan can admit when he is wrong. He sometimes lays in bed at night going over his past mistakes. At one point, he began rearranging his original preconceptions of He Tian. That he was arrogant, that much was true, but he cared for everyone around him, and protected his friends to no end. That He Tian was an insufferable rich boy - this was quite swiftly rectified the first time he’d entered his apartment. Yes, he was wealthy, but seeing how He Tian lived, alone, and with no one to care for him, Mo does not think him rich. Or, indeed, all that insufferable. If he had to admit such a thing. 

Tonight, as he struggles to sleep, Mo will admit to himself under the shroud of his blankets, darkness concealing his secrets, that the most important of these things at this moment is that He Tian is warm, and he smells of citrus.

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on tumblr! (find me @3lji) i loved this new chapter so so much and i wrote it in part when encouraged by @19elaine and @mopillow! it's just a small little snippet, put together quickly - i hope you don't mind xox 
> 
> thank you as always for your support <3 lots of love xox


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